


Feral Hearts

by PetraJade



Series: Feral Hearts [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Shapeshifters, Angels are bird shape shifters, Animal Shapeshifters, BAMF!Cas, BAMF!Dean, Bird Castiel, Cat Dean, Dean raised Sam, Dog Sam, Domestic/Shifter/Feral, Elemental Magic, F/M, Getting paid to Hunt, M/M, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-15
Updated: 2015-06-05
Packaged: 2018-01-19 13:06:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1470919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PetraJade/pseuds/PetraJade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every human has an animal living inside of them, and when they turn thirteen, a human has the chance to "synchronize" with their animal and become a Shifter. Those who master the elemental magic involved with their animal become Ferals, dangerous and fierce. Those who never get in touch with their animal remain human, a state known as Domestic. Domestics live in cities and towns led by Shifters, who in turn must answer to the Feral living in that same area.</p><p>Sam, a Shifter, and Dean, a Feral, are often hired to take care of what happens when a person can't handle their animal and go insane, but as the rate of synchronizations-gone-wrong go up, the boys find themselves in the dead center of a power struggle between four Feral brothers for the title of "Supreme Alpha."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Reward of Victory

**Author's Note:**

> It was not until they were well out of the way of the town that Dean felt he could relax again. Something about being surrounded by so many Domestics made his skin itch. It was just the way they lived that had Dean seriously regretting being around them for long periods of time. So out of touch with their animals, distanced from the problems of having to feed a beast as well as themselves and constantly under threat of losing control and turning Rabid, it made them almost foreign to Dean. Like they were part of another world Dean had no concept of.

 

This was not the first time Dean had been naked in public. Granted, he did not do it regularly, but he was more used to it than most people would expect. He was not a streaker or anything weird like that, he had simply _misplaced his clothes_. Or rather, he had _forgotten where he was supposed to meet Sam_. Usually the two were so coordinated that this only happened when an emergency took place during a hunt, but this hunt had been dull at best so this misjudgment was purely Dean’s fault. That was why he was cursing himself under his breath as he looked around, completely turned around by all the buildings. Everything on this side of town looked the same, dammit! And the strong fish smell from the nearby piers and late night fish markets were throwing off his normally excellent sense of smell. He growled low, he would be smelling _day old fish_ and _molded wood_ for weeks after this. Not to mention it was foggy AND humid, making the sweat on his skin stick to the salty air around him, making him feel clammy and muggy. It was irritating and cold all at the same time and he was only getting more pissed off the longer he wandered the backstreets and alleyways, looking for any sign of Sam. Why he had agreed to let Sam carry around their clothes during hunts was beyond him, but compared to the all the times the quarry had accidentally torn apart his clothing during the heavy fighting (which Sam generally did not participate in), it really was a better option to be wandering around naked rather than putting him and his brother back about sixty bucks to replace clothing.

He sighed, the sound coming out more as a soft _hiss_ from between his teeth. Tiny skittering nearby alerted Dean to the rats running away from his presence. Under a normal circumstance, he would take a smug sort of pride in the fact lesser animals gave him a wide berth. But he did manage a sly grin to grace his face as a group of stray dogs quickly abandoned his line of sight. He paid them no mind, choosing instead to cross his arms over his chest as he continued to stroll in and out of alleyways to find his brother. He was quickly losing patience; he could not have been _that_ far from where they were supposed to meet, right? Though, the monster had run for a long time before Dean caught up with it and finished it off, which was impressive, seeing as it had been bleeding rather profusely after getting away from Sam. A beast running away even with so much blood loss was not truly _that_ uncommon, but to be _this_ _far away_ was a feat Dean had not deemed possible. Most could not make it much more than three blocks before they collapsed and waited for Dean to catch up and finish them off, this one had apparently shattered the record. Dean sighed and shook his head. Just his luck.

He briefly thought about shifting again, which would make it easier to move around and he wouldn’t be _naked_ anymore, but as the dim lights of a street lamp got brighter through the fog, he decided against it. The town they had chased this thing from was isolated, but not completely Domestic, so the chances of Dean being run from town for nudity were next to non-existent. Maybe Sam was in one of the bars waiting for him after realizing the older brother of the two had run too far to go with their original meet-up plan, Sam was a smart kid like that. At the same time it was entirely possible for Sam to still be waiting at the spot they agreed too, blind obedience to his brother shining like a beacon of dumbass. Both situations were very likely to have occurred, leaving Dean back at square one again: looking for Sam. He growled again as he passed under another street light, the faulty bulb flickering softly above him and the constant _hummmmmmmm_ of the electronic wires beginning to grate on Dean’s patience. He felt his fingers twitch in irritation, but the noise the device gave off was not enough reason to leave this town street light-less. It was getting brighter as he neared the innermost part of the town, a mix between a bonfire and the electric lights surrounding it making the fog blanketing the city to turn a winking mix of oranges, yellows, pinks and white.

And of course the fire Dean was going towards was not a bonfire at all, but rather the burning remnants of the house he and Sam had started it, the building now a snapping ground fire that cackled and popped as the fire finished its meal of family home. Another sigh escapes Dean, this one actually sounding like a sigh, and he lowered his arms to his sides. He felt the heat lapping at his bare skin, making the sticky feeling of sweat and fog return and Dean shifted uncomfortably. He rolled his shoulders and turned away from the flames. There had to be a better way to do this, one that did not involve burning down houses, barns, factories or any other sort of building used to house individuals. Or earthquakes, lightning strikes, sandstorms, floods, or any of the other _really_ bad things that happened when Dean and his brother rolled into town on the job. He could really do without that, but it seemed a wasted effort, considering the things they hunted down and killed. At least it was over, and no one else in this sleepy town on the coast of Virginia would be at risk of being trampled to death by a very insane earthquake causing rhinoceros. The thing was dead and burned, no chance of returning, and Dean was hungry. The bright blue of the neon sign adorning a diner he and Sam had eaten at when they arrived was an almost welcome site as his stomach twisted painfully. Sam could wait, he was hungry.

Dean pushed the door open and the wave of air that hit his body made him shudder as the sweat and fog water on his body responded coldly. A few of the patrons who were still awake at this house looked up to see who had entered the shop, Dean silently cursing the soft dinging of the bell hung above the door, but most of them merely looked back at their food. Dean raised an eyebrow and scented the air, relaxing physically when the scent of the patrons confirmed that only three of them were Domestics, the rest were Shifters, with one Feral in the group. The Feral did not smell of the town; a passerby then, just drifting through town like Dean was. That was comforting that there would not be a territory battle in this sleepy little town; even though Dean had no desire for territory or clan, other Ferals seemed to see him as a threat automatically. More than once Dean had to put a young Feral down in order to even _start_ his job and it was downright _irritating_.

“Hey, Dean!”

Speaking of _irritating_ , Dean’s vision slid over to a tucked away corner of the diner where his giant of a brother was sitting at a table, bouncing in his chair like an eager puppy. Dean sighed and walked over, catching the duffle bag Sam threw at him and sent him a withering glare. His lips pursed into a straight line before heading to the bathroom to get dressed. Either Sam knew he would end up in the diner or Sam had just been sitting there, hoping. Both were so completely _Sam_ that Dean had to fight off a small smile as he pulled his underwear and jeans on. At least they could eat in peace this time without threat of someone interrupting. Maybe he and Sam could actually _finish_ a meal for once before someone jumped on the Winchester-Brothers-I-Have-A-Job-For-You train that always seemed to drive right though any peace the brothers had. Dean pulled his undershirt over his head before grabbing his button up over shirt and buttoned it up over his undershirt before grabbing his jacket and walking out of the bathroom, once again joining his brother at the table.

Sam was digging into a salad covered in chicken pieces and Dean felt his stomach turn at the sight of vegetables. Some things would never change for him, being a carnivore was one of them. The last time Sam had tried to get him to eat anything green, his stomach had twisted so violently that Dean had ended up paralyzed in a fetal position in the back of the Impala for a week while his body attempted to either make use of the foreign food or expel it. Sam had promised to never feed him vegetables after that, but still insisted that Dean take his supplement vitamins every day; Sam was such a _nag_ sometimes. But at least Sam made an effort to move his salad away from Dean as the waitress came by to take his order. Dean scented her instantly, a Domestic, pretty and innocent. She was one of the reasons Dean and his brother did what they did, to keep those like her _safe_. And they had succeeded, so Dean allowed himself to give her a flirtatious smile as he ordered whatever had the most meat on the menu. Her eyes widened at his grin, most likely due to his elongated canines, but she nodded and scurried off to get the order put in as Dean turned his attention back to his brother.

“You sure took a long time getting here.” Sam commented over a bite of his meat-coated leaves.

Dean rolled his eyes. “Shut it, bitch. The beast ran so far out of town I had to track my way back once it was burned.” He growled.

Sam shrugged. “Well, at least this one wasn’t too hard of a hunt. Relatively easy to find and it ran itself out of town instead of us having to herd it.” He said, ever the optimist and Dean reluctantly nodded.

“I guess. Still odd though.”

“What is?”

“This is the fourth Rabid this month. Don’t you think that’s a bit high?”

Sam thought for a moment, chewing on another fork full of green before he shook his head in a dismissive fashion. “Not really. I mean, considering this is a common time for stress.”

Dean snorted. “Stress? What stress. It’s _November_.” He hissed and Sam sent Dean a warning glance.

“Exactly. The holidays are coming up, or did you forget that we got three Rabids in the same _week_ for Christmas last year?”

Dean nodded but remained silent, still feeling a little uneasy about four Rabids in a month. One or two was more common, but usually only in highly populated areas like New York or Orlando, not back water towns on forgotten old dirt roads. And that’s where all four of the last hunting jobs had come from, contacts of contacts of Bobby’s who just happened to remember they had his business card in their old wallets. It was downright bizarre, considering that most of these out-of-touch towns were entirely Domestic-run with not a single Shifter among them, let alone a Feral. Not even the guy who had hired them, an assistant or something of the mayor’s, had been a Shifter. The mayor was a Shifter however, all puffed up feathers and tuxedos, and had eagerly given the boys their payment upfront to deal with the Rabid that had been spotted. But as far as Dean knew, the only _permanent_ Shifter in this town was that mayor, the others were simply visiting or passing through the town on their way to someplace bigger.

Dean’s food arrived, a massive plate of nothing but meat products that had his stomach jumping and his tongue drooling. The waitress gave him a cute wink before bouncing away; if she had synchronized and Shifted, Dean was sure she would have been a rabbit of some sort. Which suited his predatory instincts just fine, if it wasn’t for the loud crunching of leaves across from him that came from his little brother. Dean sighed irritably and turned his attention back to Sam, who was reading something on his laptop, an object his giant of a sibling was never without unless he was in animal form. He happily cut into the meat on his plate and watched as Sam eyes swiped furiously over the screen, occasionally hitting the keys that made the page scroll.

“What’ya readin’, Sammy?” Dean asked in between a mouthful of sausages. The younger of the two looked up briefly and gave Dean a withering glance before answering.

“Reading up on the latest news at the top of the food chain.” He responded and Dean rolled his eyes, swallowing before taking a large gulp of Sam’s water.

“Oh yeah? What are the boys up top doing now?” He asked, voice betraying his apathy.

Sam rolled his eyes and once again fixed Dean with a look. “Don’t sound so interested in the decisions that will affect all of us.”

Dean scoffed and took another huge bite of the sausages on his plate. “You make them sound like the like the kings of the world. It’s just the Alpha Brothers.”

“The Alpha Brothers are the Super Alphas, Dean, need I remind you, and they do _in fact_ rule over most of us.”

“Just because four big-shot brothers rule over the four districts our great nation is divided into does not make tabloid articles about them worth reading.” Dean fired back, finishing off his sausage and moving instead to the hamburger.

Sam sighed and leaned his head back. “They make all the decisions, _Dean_ , including the ones that affect how we get paid.” He growled and Dean shrugged in response.

“Far as I can tell you and I are pretty low on the food chain. We are clanless, remember? We technically don’t file under their rule.” He pointed out after swallowing a mouthful.

“And yet we get paid by Alphas and Clan Leaders for our jobs so _yes_ in fact _we do_ file under their rule.”

“Whatever you say, bitch.”

“Jerk.”

Dean smiled a bit at his brother before waving his hand dismissively, motioning the younger to continue with the article as if Dean cared. Sighing defeatedly, Sam nodded and looked over the article to summarize. Dean did not like long explanations.

“Basically they are talking about expanding the districts to include parts of Canada and Central America.” Sam responded and Dean let a low whistle escape his mouth.

“What, the good ol’ U S of A not good enough for those high and mighty bastards?”

Sam shrugged. “Guess not, but that’ll expand the territory we hunt in. Probably introduce Rabids we’ve never faced before.”

“Oh good. Always wanted to fight a moose.”

Another withering glance later and Dean was finished with his carnivore’s paradise. The boys paid for their food before leaving the diner, Dean following Sam to the Impala. Dean easily slid into the driver’s seat as Sam ducked down into the passenger’s. Sending a look over to his brother, Dean watched as Sam pulled an envelope from the glove box out from under their emergency hand gun and opened it. Inside were bills, stacked against each other tightly in the white paper holder. Dean raised an eyebrow at his brother, who nodded, silently affirming that _yes_ the money was there in full. Getting paid in cash was risky, especially at the high price the Winchester Brothers came at, but it was easier than a permanent, traceable bank account that had fees and limits and whatnot. The risk of getting cheated was also not usually within the realm of possibility, since Sam dealt with most of the transaction side of things, and one look from the imposing six and a half foot monster of a Shifter had most people quaking in their liar pants. So really, no one was stupid enough to hold out on a Winchester’s payment. Nodding in acceptance, Dean turned the vehicle on with a roar of the engine and an equally loud roar of classic rock music as the impala sped down the street and out of the town.

It was not until they were well out of the way of the town that Dean felt he could relax again. Something about being surrounded by so many _Domestics_ made his skin itch. It was just the way they _lived_ that had Dean seriously regretting being around them for long periods of time. So out of touch with their animals, distanced from the problems of having to feed a beast as well as themselves and constantly under threat of losing control and turning Rabid, it made them almost foreign to Dean. Like they were part of another world Dean had no concept of. And he knew Sammy felt out of place around them too, constantly having to devour equally huge amounts of greens and meat as well as having to run every morning to work off his extra energy, Sam was as much a far cry from a Domestic as Dean. Though, Sam did not have to battle with controlling his element like Dean did, which Dean was grateful for.

“What has you so pensive?”

Sam’s voice shook Dean from his thoughts and he barked a short laugh at the way Dean jumped and tightened his grip on the steering wheel. Dean soon relaxed however and shook his head.

“Nothing. Just thinking.”

“What about?”

“Domestics and how they are so _weird_.”

Sam laughed and nodded. “Got me there. I don’t understand how people can go through life incomplete like that.”

“Are they really incomplete, Sam? Or are we just broken?” Dean asked and Sam raised his eyebrow at him.

“Wanna talk about something?”

Dean nearly _hissed_ at the idea and shook his head. “Hell no. It was just a thought. So, shall we head back to Bobby’s or just keep driving forever?”

Sam obviously let the change of subject slip and shrugged again, leaning his head back against the headrest and closing his eyes. “I don’t think it matters. Either way we’ll get a call when someone wants to hire us. I say we head for the nearest city—actual city—and find a place to crash for a few days.” Sam suggested and Dean pursed his lips in thought.

“Yeah, okay. That sounds good.” He responded with and turned to merge on to the highway. Sam was asleep before they even came within city limits, but that did not both Dean much as he pulled into the first gas station he found and went inside for a phone book. The station clearly did not get many visitors. The outside was half brick that was slowly crumbling and the other half was formed of white painted wood that was chipped, faded and dirty. The glass doors were the kind you had to push open and a young man was wiping the glass down as Dean entered. The look he shot Dean was enough evidence for the isolation of this place. It was one of those gas stations families mostly stopped at on their vacations in order to fill the tank and then keep driving, ignoring the cheap food inside and the bathroom in favor of a few more hours of travel shaved off their trips. Dean and Sam did not have that pleasure very often, a place to be in a certain amount of time, so they often stopped at places like these to refuel and restock their snack bag in the back seat. The place was deserted, and dead silent. Deciding to go up and down the aisles instead of straight to the counter for their phonebook, Dean looked over the stock of candies, chips and plastic-wrapped cookies. They had just eaten, so Dean mostly bypassed them all, grabbing only a few packages of beef jerky on his way to the drink refrigerator. Unlike most gas stations he had seen, this place only had two floor-to-ceiling coolers for their drinks instead of an entire wall.

Soda, beer, juice, water and flavored milk were in sad variety. Nothing more than the most popular brands of soda and beer and the juice water and milk were reduced to the two rows at the bottom. Looking for the kind he preferred, Dean grabbed a couple bottles of beer and some extra bottles of water for their backseat cooler. Beer was great, but not even Dean was stupid enough to believe he could live off of it. Deciding he had effectively purchased enough groceries for the week, Dean sauntered up to the counter, depositing his finds and winking at the girl behind the counter. She, too, was a Domestic, like most of the working class civilians in the world. Shifters and Ferals just tended to take more leadership or freelance roles, leaving many jobs open for the weakest class of person. Or at least, that was how it had been explained to Dean in school. He never much cared. But this girl was so far out of touch with her animal, Dean could not pick up on any sign that would tell him what she _might have been_. It was the same with the window-cleaner boy, and the two smelled like siblings. Perhaps their family suppressed their animals to prevent the possibility of ever going Rabid. Some families did that instead of letting their children attempt to synchronize at thirteen. It was not a _common_ practice, but it was still one in use.

Dean paid for his items before hooking the bag on his arm, taking his change and requesting the phonebook. The girl gave it to him with little hesitation, though she did act slightly afraid as if Dean would fly off the handle at any moment. He briefly wondered how she knew, but it was likely she either spotted the tail wrapped around his waist or she knew what a Feral’s eyes looked like. Sam said they glowed sometimes with the color of the element the Feral had, like Dean’s would glow orange or yellow on the edges, but Dean had never seen it in the mirror. Looking over the list of motels in the nearby city, Dean decided on one and the girl wrote down the address for him. He thanked her with a smile before walking out of the gas station. Humming to himself and turning the page in his hand, he slid into the driver’s seat and dropped the bag on Sam’s lap, making the younger jump and startle from his sleep. Dean laughed and Sam sent him a glare as the impala roared to life and sped from the gas station and back on to the empty road leading into town.

“Come on, Sammy. Rise and shine. Time to play co-pilot.” Dean urged, pushing the piece of paper into Sam’s waiting hand as the younger man yawned and nodded. He opened the folded paper carefully and blinked a few times, rubbing his eyes and yawning again. Dean waited patiently for his brother to begin his weird mental-map thing. But when Sam suddenly grabbed his arm, Dean very nearly had a panic attack.

“Dean! Stop!” Sam shouted and Dean slammed his feet on the breaks, Baby screamed in protest against the road as the car came to a stop.

“Dammit, Sam!” Dean growled, looking at his brother with a less than amused look. “What?!”

Instead of answering, Sam shoved the paper back into his face and Dean took it before looking at it properly. Written on it was the address, but a very small extra note was written below the zip-code.

_Help us._ It was clear as day and Dean threw the note back at Sam before putting Baby in drive and speeding down the road back to the gas station. He probably shattered the speed limit, but Dean could not ignore a cry for help any more then Sam could. Beside him his brother was stripping his shirt off, followed soon by his pants. Dean did not even question when his brother stripped fully in the passenger’s seat, throwing his clothes into the back seat and opening the passenger side door as Dean was still speeding towards the station. Once it came into view, Dean violently turned the wheel so that the vehicle turned sharply, whipping Sam’s door open and sending his brother flying out the door. Without even batting an eyelash, Sam Shifted and a large dark brown dog took off down the street, using the momentum from the vehicle to propel it forward towards the gas station. The brothers were reckless, sure, and never ignored a person in need, but they were far from _stupid_. Whatever had those two holed up in the gas station would go back into hiding once it saw the impala returning, so sending Sam, the less suspicious of the two Shifters, to stake out the place was the smartest move.

Parking the impala in the cover of the trees, Dean slid out of his car and waited for his brother to signal him. His animal was rearing for a fight and his skin was itching again. To ease some of the tension, Dean allowed his claws to slide in and out as he tapped on the impala, his version of kneading the surface. Silence from Sam always made him nervous, but he was patient hunter. He would spend days stalking prey, but once he had his opportunity, Dean would rush in without hesitation or care for any obstacles. Finally he heard Sam’s howl, long and deep, and Dean took off towards the gas station without Shifting this time. Running into the parking lot, Dean found Sam facing down a shady looking man. Sam was all hackles and snarling as he stared the man down, Dean coming up beside the canine did nothing to calm the large dog. The man seemed unconcerned, angry in fact, and reminded Dean of a weasel. In fact, Dean scented him, he _was_ a weasel. He bared his teeth as Sam in return and Sam almost charged, if Dean had not put his hand on his head.

“Let me guess. You are the one holding those kids hostage?” Dean challenged, twisting his fingers in Sam’s long scruff coat to make sure his brother did not charge yet.

“Didn’t you scent them? Both Domestics.” The weasel man replied and Dean raised his eyebrow.

“Yeah. And?”

“ _Suppressed_ Domestics.” He said as if Dean should care. When Dean showed no signs of understanding, Weasel-man scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Means their blood is extra strong!” He shouted and Dean understood.

“You’ve been bleeding them.” He said and Sam snarled, tugging at Dean’s grip.

“Wouldn’t you? You’re Feral. You need the blood more than I do. You can have them.” The man pleaded, looking suddenly nervous at the realization of Dean’s abilities. “Not to mention that _giant_ of a Shifter you have on a leash.” He said and Sam barked in protest.

“First off, this _giant of a Shifter_ is my little brother, not my pet. And I’m the only thing standing between you and his hunting instinct.” Dean said, voice cold and hard. “Second I don’t kidnap and _bleed_ Domestics for what I need. Don’t try to bargain with me.” He hissed and the man took a step back before baring his teeth again.

“I’m a carnivore too, you know. Not many people think that about weasels, but I’m just as good as the rest of you.” He snarled and Dean wouldn’t stop the smirk from spreading across his face.

“I’m a carnivore, but dogs are _omnivores_.” He said smugly. “They need greens and meat to survive. Not many people think that about dogs.” He said, loosening his grip enough to let Sam lurch forward a little. “And as I seem to recall, dogs are bigger than weasels and were used to hunt them for centuries. So, let’s leave this up to you. Either you promise to never kidnap and bleed a Domestic again or I let Sammy here go all instinctual on your ass.” He said and the man took another step back.

“Fine! Fine. I won’t bleed a Domestic again!” He said, turning to run and taking a few steps before he turned back around, sending a thick missile of rock towards the two of them. He was smirking up until Dean grabbed the thing out of midair and it crumbled to little more than sand in his grasp and Dean’s arm lit up with flame.

“Never bullshit a bullshitter, you son of a bitch.” Dean snarled before raising his hand and sending a two shots of flame at Weasel-man and hitting both of his hands with the consuming flames. The man screamed and clutched his arms together and chatted angrily at Dean and Sam, which only riled the long-haired canine more and he tried to tug away from Dean’s hand again. “Also, don’t try to out-Feral me. You just recently synched with your animal’s element, I can smell it. I’ve been at this a _long_ time.” He growled and the man whimpered softly.

Dean looked over at the two faces in the window and signaled them to look away, the two young Domestics scrambling away from the door as Dean’s look. Domestics could not disobey a direct order from a Shifter or Feral, it was something so ingrained into their minds that sometimes Dean felt bad for using his power over them. But it also made him what to protect them all the more fiercely. Apparently Sam felt the same, for he was tugging again and Dean was worried about his tear some of his fur out as the weasel man got up and started running away. It was scrambling pace, pitiful at best and Dean almost regretting not letting him get more prominent head start. Sam liked to track his prey, but weasels were clever and Dean could not risk losing this one.

“Ready, Sammy?” He said and Sam’s tail wagged furiously. Dean let his brother go. “Fetch.” He said and Sam was off like a shot towards the man, quickly covering the ground and as Dean turned away to head inside to assuring himself of the siblings’ protection, he head the man’s piercing cry that told Dean Sam had caught his quarry. He once again entered the store and looked around, finding the siblings hiding behind the counter and Dean gently knelt so they could see him. He nodded at them and stood again, watching as they did too.

“Is there any Shifters in your family?” He asked. When the boy shook his head Dean licked his lips as he thought. “Okay. There should be a Feral over this area, right?” He asked and the two of them nodded, holding each other’s hands and shaking a little. They were no older than nineteen, but afraid they looked like children. Dean sighed and nodded. “Go find him or her. Get yourself marked. The Weasel was right, because your family suppressed your animals completely your blood is more potent than a Domestic that, say, missed synching by a hair’s length. So if he tried to bleed you two, so will others.” He said and the two nodded.

“Will it be safe?” The girl asked and Dean sighed again. No, it wasn’t _safe_. Domestics marked by a Feral were subject to being bled anyway if the Feral decided too. But at least they had a chance being marked, so Dean was honest with them.

“Safer.” He said, leaving the building and heading back outside where Sam was waiting in the Impala. He strode over slowly, the scent of dead weasel making him slightly sick as he neared the vehicle. Sam still had not changed back and Dean rolled his eyes at his brother’s tail wagging as he approached. Sam’s muzzle was bloody and Dean saw a strip of _shirt_ hanging from one of his teeth, but the tail wagging made Sam look like a giant long-haired puppy rather than a dog that just killed a guy. Dean chuckled and scratched his brother’s ear before shutting the door and sliding into the driver’s seat. Sam looked over at him with a tilted head and Dean shrugged, pushing the canine’s inquisitive muzzle away from him. He sent his brother before starting up the car.

“Don’t get any blood on the seat, Sam, or I’ll enter you in a dog show.” He threatened and laughed when Sam groaned in displeasure. Soon enough the brothers were back on the road towards the city, Sam favoring his animal form so he could curl up in the back seat and catch a few more winks before they arrived. Dean turned the music down a bit, knowing how sensitive his brother’s ears were in animal form, and kept driving. Hopefully they would not have another Rabid attack for a while. They needed a break.


	2. Of Marks, Locks, and Pigs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He ran his fingers over the paint on the wall, fighting every instinct in his body to use his claws to scent the walls. This was not his permanent home, like Bobby’s house (which was covered in thousands of Dean’s claw marks), so he merely ran his fingers over the walls and doors, letting any who came by that this was his room (for now anyway). Once he finished the walls, Dean moved to the windows and doors, running his palms over them as if he was petting the door. It was a subtle marking, and would be gone in a few days of airing the room out, but it made him feel better and would certainly keep Sam from being on edge so much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who gave Kudos and left such lovely comments. 
> 
> This story is for my wifeys, Brooke (who lets me talk out loud about this story and what I want to do) and Niki (who is usually my editor but I fired her for this project so she can enjoy like a civilian), and my sister Afrika who reads this against our mother's will (rebellion!). Also for my friend Dakota. Hi, Dakota.

Dean pulled in to the motel parking lot just in time for dawn to begin breaking over the horizon. Turning the rumbling vehicle off, he reached back to shake Sam awake, who jolted away so suddenly he accidentally shifted back from his animal form, hitting his head on the roof. Dean sent him a grin that only got wider when Sam flipped him off. Laughing as he exited the car, Dean was pulling the duffel bags from the top part of the trunk when Sam finally managed to make his way out of the vehicle. Stretching his arms above his head, Sam yawned loudly and Dean shook his head. He was tired too, granted, but Sam had taken a nap in the back while Dean drove to the address the teens at the gas station had given them. He hated navigating cities sometimes, but at least this one had a fair share of motels dotting the area. It was clearly a tourist-rest-spot kind of city, one that was less than an hour from a big tourist spot. Most of its money was made from motels, cheap diners and tacky souvenir shops. It was the kind of city that suited the Winchester brothers just fine. No one found it strange when you dished out piles of ones to pay for things and there were so many passing Shifters, it was impossible for one to claim territory. So as long as Dean didn’t accidentally hit on a mated female (and it was _always_ an accident, Dean was not _that_ kind of guy), it was unlikely the boys would have any trouble while they rested up; unless they got another job, they would hit the road in two days to head for Bobby’s and report in the last three months of work.

The two of them headed into the lobby where the owner sat at the desk, watching the news as it filled the enclosed area with hushed voices streaming in monotone; Dean ignored it. Sam was almost instantly enraptured and Dean restrained another eye roll as he called over the owner to book a room for two nights. The man demanded payment up front, which was not that uncommon for a tourist-lodging place like this. Too many people forgot to pay their room bill and just take off, something Dean was not _entirely_ innocent of, but he had no problem paying forward. Laying down the cash, one annoying one dollar bill at a time, he heard the bell on the door chime. It was more background noise than anything, so Dean for the most part ignored it, aside from the fact that there was now a person right behind him. It was not like the line-standing behind either, it was more like the _uncomfortably creepy close_ behind that had every fiber in Dean’s being tightening for an attack. It never came, and as Dean side-stepped to get away from whoever it was behind him, the person merely stepped forward and took Dean’s place at the counter, requesting a room. Dean raised his eyebrow, thinking to himself how _incredibly rude_ it was to rush a person by standing so far in their person space that the person could feel the movement of the rusher’s face. The guy was short too, and scrawny looking.

He just looked out of place in general, the way he stood and carried himself not to mention the way his eyes ( _blue_ Dean vaguely noticed _with a hint of silver around the pupil_ ) darted around the room like the walls would suddenly come alive and hurt him was enough information for Dean to _back the hell off_ and walk back over to Sam. Shaking Mister Creep at the counter from his head, Dean tapped Sam on the shoulder.

“Sam. _Sammy_.”

Sam jolted again as if from a trance and looked over at his brother.

“Sorry. Yeah?”

Dean shook his head and waved the keys in his brother’s face. “Come on. There’s a bed.” He coaxed and Sam nodded, following his brother from the lobby building and down the concrete in front of the many obnoxiously red colored doors that made up the individual rooms of the motel. Stopping in front of their number, Dean used the keys to unlock the door, opening it in a splendid fashion and motioned Sam in as if he was giving a tour. Sam rolled his eyes at the gesture and entered, dumping his bag on the floor and promptly jumping in to the bed closest to the door, _since the weirdo liked to go jogging in the mornings_ , burrowing under the covers and soon enough he was snoring again. Dean really could not blame him though, going from high energy person to _higher energy_ animal was probably exhausting for him. Dean’s animal was not nearly so high maintenance, and aside from having to eat his own body weight in red meat every week or so and the need to re-mark Sam as his property every time his brother showered, he and his animal were fairly content just lazing about doing whatever came to mind. Dean moved to his own bed and put his bag down on it, lazily strolling back over to the door and locking it. Granted, locking the door would do precious little against an attacker that really wanted in, but it made him feel better as he paced around the room, taking in the borders of their temporary place of residence.

He ran his fingers over the paint on the wall, fighting every instinct in his body to use his claws to scent the walls. This was not his permanent home, like Bobby’s house (which was covered in thousands of Dean’s claw marks), so he merely ran his fingers over the walls and doors, letting any who came by that this was _his_ _room_ (for now anyway). Once he finished the walls, Dean moved to the windows and doors, running his palms over them as if he was petting the door. It was a subtle marking, and would be gone in a few days of airing the room out, but it made him feel better and would certainly keep Sam from being on edge so much. Sam never really relaxed until he was at Bobby’s house where all three of them had marked it and the surrounding area with so many markers a Shifter would literally have to be a lunatic to enter the area uninvited. Once he finished, Dean returned to his bed and crawled into it, the tiredness of the day finally catching up with his body and he could not stop the happy groan that escaped his mouth as he piled the two pillows under his head and closed his eyes. He would not sleep for long or very deeply, he never did when he and his brother were out in public, but the scent markers made it possible for him to actually fall asleep.

Dean only woke up three times that night to pace around the room and check his markers. By the time he woke up for the fourth time, Sam was gone from his bed and dawn was just barely appearing over the horizon. The grey sky outside their window was slowly lighting up yellow and pink when Dean decided to slowly sit up and rub his eyes, yawning. This was Sam’s usual jog time, so Dean did not think anything of Sam’s absence as he reached over and groped for his phone. Finally grabbing it, he flipped it open to check for missed calls or texts. There was nothing, which Dean was relieved for, and he absently typed out a text to Bobby telling the older man that they had finished the job and were heading back to his place to rest up before being sent back out. He and Sam were a good three days journey from Sioux Falls, but if they pulled another all-nighter drive, they could be at Bobby’s by the afternoon after tomorrow. Once the text was sent, Dean flopped back on the bed, legs hanging off the edge and feet barely touching the floor as Dean closed his eyes again and retreated into his mind. He could feel his animal shifting to make room for him in their shared consciousness, the great spotted beast regarding his presence with a kind of lazy greeting.

Dean checked the locks he kept on his magic, the fires blazing hot and wild behind the doors he had put up around them. They were still strong and Dean was in full control of how much the door could open or close to let out the wild magic he held inside him. He stuck his hand into the crack in the door, feeling the flames eagerly jump up to meet his skin like a happy pet greeting him home. They licked up his arm and clung to him; Dean was absently aware that his arm was sweating and the room was heating up slowly. Pulling his arm from the flames, he felt the cold instantly settle on his skin and he shivered. Both from the cold and the angry crackle that came from the flames as he pulled away from the locked door. His animal rolled its eyes at his fear but returned to loafing around, its back to the fully closed portion of the door. Not even his animal wanted the doors all the way open, knowing what that would mean.

“Dean.”

Dean was pulled to his body by the voice of his brother and as he opened his eyes, he could almost _feel_ the yellow of his magic recede to just outlining his pupils. He rolled his eyes over to meet his brother’s and raised an eyebrow.

“What?”

“I brought breakfast. And I’ve been calling your name for five minutes now.” Sam said, shaking a bag that smelled of grease and the promise of dime-store protein.

“Sorry.” Dean said half-heartedly before sitting up and taking the bag, crossing his legs on the bed and grabbing the first of the three burgers Sam had brought for him. Sam moved to his own bed and sat cross-legged as well, digging into his salad as Dean took an eager bite from the burger.

“Animal chat or lock check?” Sam asked once he had swallowed.

Dean swallowed as well before he answered. “Lock check.” The words were nearly lost as Dean took another huge bite.

Sam nodded and motioned for Dean to throw him a burger, which Dean did, and took a bite of the meaty sandwich. Dean was still fascinated by his brother’s diet. True, Dean could eat a _small_ amount of vegetables and fruits without getting violently ill (small amount meaning like an apple a month), but Sam seemed to just devour anything that came across his path. Sam caught him staring and raised an eyebrow in question.

“I don’t understand omnivores.” Dean said with a shrug and Sam snorted.

“I don’t understand carnivores or herbivores. How do you get the nutrients your body needs when you only eat one thing?” Sam countered.

“Dunno.” Dean said with a shrug. “I just know meat tastes good and veggies don’t.”

Sam rolled his eyes but nodded. “I know.”

The rest of their meal was spent in silence as the two finished off their breakfast. Sometimes Dean would throw teasing remarks about Sam’s jogging, usually revolving around him being a dog and needing to be taken out for a walk every day, and sometimes Sam would passively comment about how lazy Dean was, usually revolving around his naps and only moving when he had too. But this time they two of them just ate in companionable silence, throwing away their trash when they were done. Contrary to what most people though, Dean was actually the tidier of the two brothers, but neither of them were slobs so they never really had a problem cleaning up after themselves. Once breakfast was finished, Sam moved to his laptop and Dean grabbed his keys. While Sam was looking for jobs or reading the news or researching plants in Africa or whatever it was he did on that thing, Dean was going to go through the trunk and clean the weapons. Unlocking the back of the impala, Dean absentmindedly scented the air as the wind picked up the scents of the motel residents and brought them to his attention. Of the twenty-four occupied rooms, only four were Shifters and two bore the strong scent of Feral that set Dean’s animal on edge. The mix of territory lines in the city made it possible for Ferals to occupy the same space without fighting, but there was still very little reason for a Feral to willingly interact with another one for any amount of time.

Putting all of his and Sam’s weapons into the duffel bag they used to carry them, he closed the trunk and locked it again before walking back inside the room and dropping the bag on Sam’s bed in passing. Sam did not even look up from the screen and just kept happily typing away as Dean once again returned to the impala, this time for the cleaning supplies. Once he was all set, Dean laid out each weapon systematically in a circle around him on the floor, knives in the farthest circle and the hand guns at closest reach. He always started with the smaller guns first, picking up the first one and taking it apart with practiced grace before wiping down each piece. He checked them for dents or scratches, buffing out the signs of use as best as he could before putting it back together and moving on to the next gun. He was meticulous, bordering obsessive, with cleaning the weapons and testing their weight and alignment. The only thing he paid more attention too was Baby, whose engine Dean regularly looked over. He hummed Van Halen as he worked, moving from song to song without really paying attention. He must have been through an album and a half as well as most of the hand guns when Sam spoke up.

“Looks like the boys up top are fighting.” He said and Dean stopped humming to make a sound of acknowledgement for his brother to know he was listening. “Or at least there’s tension between them. Some reporters are saying that they are refusing joint interviews now. It’s like they can’t stand being around each other anymore.” Sam said, shaking his head and taking a drink from a water bottle before clicking on his keyboard again. “And there might be a job nearby, if we jump on it soon.” He said and Dean flicked his eyes over to his brother. On one hand, a local job meant more money and an excuse to let off steam and energy, but on the other hand, he and Sam had just _finished_ a job and it had not been an easy hunt. Dean absentmindedly rolled his shoulders, feeling the tension there protest the movement. All in all, he’d leave this choice up to Sam for this one. Dean picked the last one. If Sam wanted them to take another hunt so soon, then Dean would jump in Baby, crank up some ACDC and they’d be on their way.

He must have said as much with his eyes before returning to the gun he was currently cleaning the barrel of and Sam did some more typing before grabbing his phone. Sam was in full information mode and nothing would stop him once he started. That was probably the best thing about his brother being a freaking _Leonburger_. Sam was _relentless_ about things once he decided they were important. He could probably nag a Rabid to death, and Dean chuckled at the thought of his baby brother bitch-facing a rage monster until it died. He had finished the rest of the handguns and was working on the second sawed-off shot gun when Sam spoke again.

“Looks like a pretty easy hunt, but a bit unusual. Looks like a couple, meaning a husband and wife, of Shifters just suddenly went nuts and destroyed a local bar before charging off into the night. Police who followed their path had reported at least four homes destroyed, twenty people injured and two dead so far, but this couple are still rampaging across the city. Current tracking report puts them about four miles from here.” Sam said and Dean hummed.

“Does it say their animals?” Dean asked.

“Not outright. But from these shots of the homes, I’d say at least one of them is packing flames. There’s no shot of foot prints or anything though so I can’t tell what the animals are.” Sam replied, alternating between his phone and the computer screen.

Dean moved on to the third shot gun. “Do you want to?”

Sam was silent a moment longer before looking over at his brother, watching him clean the long barrels of the gun. “I haven’t heard of any other hunters coming forward to claim the hunt and they are actively rampaging _right now_.” Sam emphasized and Dean nodded to himself. Usually Rabids had on and off periods of their destruction. They would wreck everything around themselves before just stopping and going quiet or stone still for an undeterminable amount of time before the lights flipped on and they were once again attacking everything around them and charging at anything that moved.

Dean finished the shot gun and stood, grabbing the cleaned guns and putting them back in the bag. “Guess we had better get going then, huh?” He said and Sam nodded with an eager smile.

 

Looking at the latest destroyed house gave the two all the evidence they needed for their hunt. Behind them a mousey (literally) assistant to a member of the city council shuffled nervously, adjusting her glasses as the brothers looked through the debris. She was clearly uncomfortable out on the field, but she had been the one assigned to catch the boys up to speed and accompany them to the evidence sights so they could properly make a decision on whether or not they’d take the job. Some people on the streets passing by gave the scene an odd and curious look, but Rabid hunters were not that unusual in large cities like this, even if it was still a part of society most people preferred not to talk or think about. Like black market auctioneers or contract killers, hunters were generally left out of the lime light even though everyone knew they existed; most people feigned ignorance at the idea of such a profession and others chose to write it off as something invented by novel writers and tabloids to boost numbers. But the Winchesters were infamous in their anonymity. Seemed like every higher-up they’d come across knew their track record, knew Bobby, or knew their faces; it was the same with every other hunter they came across as well. Not that it mattered, hunters generally kept to themselves, small family groups hidden in the plain sight of the city-wide factions and packs.

But Sam and Dean were the only wandering hunters as far as Dean knew. Most hunters holed up in a city or town and expanded their hunting grounds to about a ten mile radius of land and residence. And if a city or town happened to fall within that circle, the hunter there generally felt themselves responsible for it. Sometimes hunter territory lines crossed, but for the most part hunters were pretty laid back about sharing hunts; not so much the money, however. The hunter whose territory took up most of the city was generally the one who got paid, and if Sam and Dean were in another hunter’s city, and the hunter _found_ them before they got paid, the boys had to fork over a good ten percent to the hunter as compensation. Needless to say, the brothers had become fairly good about leaving cities pretty quickly after the money was in hand. But this city was hunterless, completely dependent on its police force (made up of Shifters, of course) and perhaps the help of a nearby hunter willing to leave their hunting grounds to assist. So Sam and Dean had little competition and that meant a larger reward. Rabids in a hunterless area made the local politicians nervous, which made their pockets easy pickings.

“Found a print!” Sam shouted and Dean jogged over to where Sam was crouched over a broken flowerbed. The wood had easily given way to whatever stepped on it, causing an avalanche of potting soil to mix with the grass, but luckily for the boys potting soil is soft and there in the dirt was one _very_ detailed print. It was shaped like a normal cloven hoof, at least to Dean it did, aside from the fact that it had what looked like a pair of horns sticking out of the end that jetted out before spiking violently up at an angle. The hoof print was not very big, about the size of Dean’s palm, but it was one Dean had never seen before, so he sent Sam a questioning look. Sam looked over the print again, tracing the outline with his hand before he stood again. “Wild boar. I’d bet my laptop on it.” He said finally.

Dean sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Right. Cause that’s just what we need. A crazy wild pig with tusks. Any signs of the Bonnie to this Clyde?” He asked and Sam shook his head.

“Not that I can see. But at least we know the other one is the fire user. Pigs and boars are Earth animals.” He said and Dean nodded. “Also there doesn’t seem to be much sign of an earthquake, chasm creation, or even a sand storm. Maybe the boar-rabid is just charging things and not using its magic.”

It was hopeful thought, one Dean was inclined to prefer. Earth magic was one of the hardest to fight against, since it affected the ground a person was _standing_ on and made it difficult to move properly or get an attack in. Dean sometimes wishes he had been born with a bird for his animal, then at least he would have wings. He felt his animal snort in offense and Dean felt a grin pull at his lips as he stood. “Well, Fire-Wielder and Tusk-Pig here are still on the run.” He said before pivoting on his heels to face the small girl nervously tittering at the entrance of the ruined house. She squeaked when he caught her gaze and quickly averted it to the floor, making Dean roll his eyes. _Rodents_. Always so meek and nervous around him and his brother. They were worse than Domestics sometimes.

“Hey. You. Mouse-chick.” He called and she looked up again.

“Yes?” She asked timidly and Dean resisted another eye roll. Give him someone with a backbone. _Please_.

“Tell your bosses or whatever that we’ll take the case.” He said and her face broke into a giant bright grin that had Dean smiling back nervously. She looked like she was either going to jump on him and hug him (something he would find incredibly uncomfortable) or run away shouting the good news as she went. Luckily, she did neither and quickly composed herself.

“Excellent. I will let them know.” She said curtly, fixing a hair of blonde that had fallen into her face. “Do you need anything else?” She asked, fingers tapping on her clipboard in a nervous-excited way.

Dean looked over at Sam who shrugged and shook his head. Dean moved his gaze back over to the girl and shook his head as well. “Nah, sweetheart. We got it from here. Go on.” He said, waving his hand dismissively and turning his back to her before he could see her face turn red. He heard her squeak before she walked away, heels clicking softly on the pavement. Perhaps it was a tad bit rude for him to not offer her a ride back, but she was a prey animal, and with his animal already gearing up and flexing its claws for another kill (which incidentally had Dean’s claws flexing as well), it would have been a dangerous situation all around. Prey animal Shifters were literally at the whim of predator Shifters and he felt instinctively pulled to chase her and harass her until she either ended up in his bed or dead. He did not really like either option, not to mention there were laws against it now, so he distracted his animal with the thought of hunting down a wild boar. It seemed satisfied with that as a substitute and Dean’s skin itched to change. He felt his tail unwind from around his waist and flick eagerly behind him at the thought of a new hunt. Sam caught sight of it and laughed a little, but he was bouncing for a hunt too.

Dean sent him a roughish smile and stripped his shirts off, tossing them to the younger brother. Sam shoved it into a bag he was carrying with him before Dean also tossed his pants and underwear at him. Once down on all fours, Dean allowed his body to Shift. It took him mere moments for his body to rearrange its bones and organs to take the shape of his inner self; he had done this so many times since his first Shift it was second nature now. Once fully Shifted, Dean stretched his front and back legs, groaning at the feeling. Shaking his large head and flicking his ears, he licked his maw before looking over at Sam. His brother was already undressed and had the clothing bag tied around his chest so that when he changed, the bag would still be around him. Within seconds there was no longer a tall human crouching on the ground, but a large long-haired brown and black dog. Dean butted his head against Sam’s, nearly sending his (now) smaller brother on to his side before trotting over to the print. He sniffed it, taking in a deep huff of the scent of his quarry, before moving to allow Sam to do the same.

Of the two, Sam could scent track better, but Dean was the more intelligent hunter. Sam would track the prey, Dean would stalk it. Sam nodded at his brother before taking off, Dean keeping up lazily behind him. People on the sidewalks gave them a wide berth, not unused to the sight of Shifters running around in animal forms, but it was still unnerving to see an African Leopard the size of a fully grown male lion (or actually probably bigger) and a giant Leonburger charging down the streets together. Dean gave it little thought at he kept Sam in sight as the canine ducked in and out of alleyways and across streets to follow the scent. It was not long for them to catch up to the pair of Rabids, finding them holed up in an industrial factory that could easily go nuclear if the fire-user had a temper tantrum. Dean groaned again, huffing from behind his whiskers and nudged Sam as he passed. It was Dean’s turn now. It was time to hunt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A brief summary of what we know: 
> 
> -Domestics never Shift and don't know what their animal would have been. Sometimes a Shifter or Feral can scent their animal, but not often  
> -Shifters have Shifted and can Shift at will  
> -Ferals are Shifters who are also able to use the magic their animal aligns with (Water, Fire, Earth, Air)  
> -Dean is a Feral, his animal is an African Leopard and his element is Fire  
> -Sam is a Shifter, his animal is a Leonburger, a giant type of rescue dog from Germany, he has no elemental powers  
> -Rabids are what happens when a synchronization goes wrong and a person is driven insane from the pain/stress of Shifting or just life in general. They become like super-powered, out-of-control Ferals  
> -"Hunter" refers to a person who hunts/kills Rabids. They do get paid to do this by mayors, city councils, ect. Like mercenaries


	3. Falcon Falling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The hit sent it flying away, a mass of writing scales and flame before it was once again charging at Dean, who decided it was a very good idea to dodge and hit rather than his normal fighting choice of all-out assault. It struck at his paws and legs like lightning, Dean had no idea how he managed to dodge all the attempts, but it seemed to fair just as well as dodging his own attacks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I disclaim to claim the canon parts of this work that belong to someone else. Also, yay, writing fight scenes!

The factory was mostly empty of employees, save for the few security guards required to keep a place like this protected. Really, the biggest threat to a place like this was the one Dean was currently scenting. No thief was going to storm the concrete walls, there was no prizes inside the factory save the power generators and piles of fish waiting to be processed into common grocery store food. The scent of the fish was making Dean’s mouth water, but he was patient. He’d finish the hunt and then he’d make off with a few of the larger catches in the bins of fish. Consider it part of his payment. The constant stink of fish was messing with his sense of smell however, and he just _knew_ it was wreaking havoc with Sam, who was huffing and sneezing behind him. Rolling his eyes over to his brother, he motioned for Sam to hang back, the dog completely useless to him without his nose. Sam whimpered slightly but did as he was told, staying outside the room as Dean entered the main processing area, which stank even more of fish, if that was even possible. Dean reeled back from the scent and huffed unhappily as the scent of fresh fish, frozen fish and processed fish mixed together into a mix that almost made him sick at the same time it made him hungry. It was an odd feeling, but he forced himself to continue moving, looking for signs of the two Rabids he was tracking. He caught sight of a few prints on the ground, mostly half formed in a crushed fish or made from drying water because a few of the water vats were leaking. But it was enough to give Dean a good direction to go.

He looked back at Sam, who was pacing back and forth in the doorway and whimpering, and motioned his brother to follow. Sam did so quickly, sticking close to Dean while still checking a short perimeter for signs of their prey. They had to be calm about this one, a Fire Rabid in a factory did not bode well if the boys managed to scare or surprise it. Hopefully the pair had just passed _through_ the factory, but Dean knew he was not so lucky. They had probably holed up in here, though for what Dean had no idea. Rabids did not just stop in a place to stay for the night, they were out-of-their-minds killing machines that had no control over their own movements. Dean knew, he had been there once. Shaking his head, he looked over at Sam that was pointing to an absolutely wrecked door. It could not have been a more obvious clue if the Rabids were standing in it. He followed Sam down through the hall way that had been torn to shreds, every inch of the walls scraped up and looked like something had been repeatedly charging into it. Or thrown against it. Dean’s eyes narrowed, it was unusual for two Rabids to be in the same area, and it was even rarer for them to attack each other. He lowered himself against the floor, slinking up the hallway as the scent of their quarry started to become stronger and stronger. Sam hung back, walking slowly down the hallway, but compared to his feline brother his movements were jerky and loud as a parade. Sam stopped approaching and laid on his belly, inching forward a little when Dean got too far away.

Every now and again Dean would stop and his ears would flicker in a full 180 before he slinked forward again, taking the hallway in short but quick movements. Sam enjoyed watching Dean, but this was not the situation to be admiring his brother’s hunting style. Twenty feet from the door, Sam stopped completely and Dean moved forward on his own. Gently putting a paw on the door to test its ability, Dean was pleased to find it was an easy push-door that was more like a giant doggy door. He licked his maw in anticipation and entered through the door silently. Sam stayed behind waiting for Dean to signal him. The large cat moved through the new room, the scents telling him it was the boxing area. The stench of cardboard, plastic, and frozen fish made him wrinkle his nose. He would be grateful when he left this place and got back to the scent of the outdoors. But under the scent of the factory was the scent of dirt and smoke, of a pig and.... _what was that_? Dean grimaced and sniffed again, taking in a larger breath and growled to himself. Life really did hate him, and _damn_ did Sam know how to pick a job. On one side they had an earth-wielding wild boar rampaging about and on the other, a _snake_. Sam could easily have told him what kind of snake it was, but Dean did not care. It was a _snake_ and that meant this job got a ton harder. Not to mention snakes were almost always fire-users, meaning he was dealing with a _flaming snake_. Fantastic. He huffed softly and continued to slink forward, belly fur brushing against the smooth concrete. He was noiseless as he closed in on the source of the scents he had been tracking. Passing through another door, Dean found himself in the shipping dock.

It was dark, the windows that helped illuminate the rest of the factory not needed here where they had large docking doors. Unfortunately, those doors were shut, which left minimal light from the previous room and a few sky-lights as Dean’s only source of sight. But he had dealt with darker, and as a fully equipped feline, the lack of light did not truly bother him. Off in a corner there was a deep orange colored light that drew Dean in like a moth. Slinking towards it slowly, the leopard took careful note of the amount of melted metal and heat-cracked concrete the closer to the light he got. He was not looking forward to this fight, and hopefully he would be lucky and sneak up on the thing so he could pounce on it and break its neck before it noticed him. Sam was better equipped to run down the wild boar, and Dean wanted to avoid as much injury as he could. He was already bruised from the fight with the rhino, and he knew that come the next few days, most of his shoulder and arm would be sporting the world’s most painful shade of purple. He followed the light and path in the concrete down another hallway out of the docking bay and he narrowed his eyes. Where was the boar? He continued moving, albeit more carefully, and considered signaling Sam. He and Sam had a way of communicating when in animal form as well as when they were tracking or being tracked, it mostly involved scratching on hollow objects, and there was no guarantee Sam would be able to hear him. Besides, the air was getting warmer and warmer, meaning Dean was getting close. He decided against signaling Sam to hunt for the boar; his brother was probably already doing so. Entering another door, once again sneaking it silently, Dean found himself in what could only be called the fish farm. He did not even know this particular fishery _had_ a fish farm attached to it, but it made sense with all the laws about fishing the open ocean where many water Shifters made their homes. Large vats of water where alive with fish, the sounds of which made his ears twitch on the top of his head. Maybe instead of a few frozen catches he’d just pull a fresh kill from such an easy hunting ground? That sounded perfect. But first things first, he reminded himself as the light became almost unbearable. He turned around another vat and he finally saw what he had been chasing.

A large snake was slithering across the floor, body glowing like a furnace and occasionally the scales would light on fire. It was long, well over eight or nine feet, but that was not unusual for a Shifter of a medium-sized snake. From this distance he could not determine the species, but knowing his luck, it would be something venomous. Besides, most snake Shifters were venomous, it was simple the nature of survival. And it looked fast, skinny and long. But for now it was lazily moving about, seemingly ignoring everything around it. Dean could make out yellow scales from beyond the glowing, and it seemed to be spikey, making it harder for something to latch on too. Dean cursed in his mind, lips quivering over his teeth in response. That would be uncomfortable to jump and latch on to. It had not noticed and Dean lowered his top half toward the ground while his back half raised and twitched, ready to pounce. He waited a while longer, contemplating the intelligence of his idea before he felt his body spring into action and he was closing the distance between him and the snake. It clearly felt the vibrations because it reared up its head and turned to him just as Dean leapt and landed on its middle, slamming his paws down on its head to prevent the bite he knew was coming. He had to move fast as his claws came out, fully prepared to rip into the snake and kill it when something slammed into his already hurt shoulder.

Hissing in pain, Dean fell to the side off the snake as the previously absent boar reared up for another charge, the snake trying to make a break for it. Staring down a pair of tusks was far less appealing and Dean did his best to leap out of the way before the pig made contact. It caught his back paw, tearing into the pad before it ran into the wall opposite. Dean roared in pain as he landed on the paw. He quickly lifted his paw from the ground, eyes hardening at the feeling of blood leaking and dripping from the wound. It was going to be a chore to walk for a while and _sonofabitch_ the thing was charging again, completely undeterred by running into a solid wall. Reading himself to once again jump, Dean winced as he put weight on the injured paw. Suddenly Sam was sprinting from nowhere, gaining distance on the boar and latching on with his teeth, dragging it off balance and to the floor before it collided with Dean. Releasing it quickly as it thrashed back to its hooves, Sam motioned to the still escaping snake before dropping to a fighting position, snarling at the pig as it once again began to charge. Dean nodded and took off after the snake, doing his best to ignore the pain in his paw. Like _hell_ he was going to limp and let Sam baby him after this. Besides, a venomous Rabid was even worse than a juggernaut Rabid with tusks or a horn. More people would die if Dean did not catch the thing and kill it soon. Behind him he heard the sound of a scuffle and it _almost_ made him abandon his hunt to assist his brother, but Sam would never forgive him if the reptile got away, so he soldiered on. Valiantly ignoring the pain that shot through him with every step, he sprinted down the hallways after the rapidly slithering snake.

He finally caught up to it on some kind of roof area that was probably the break room for the workers in the factory. Well, at least it would not be lighting any vats or furnaces on fire. However, it must had realized it was cornered, because the snake was rearing up and hissing, flames whipping from its body as Dean approached. Dean felt his own magic uncoil and spread through his paws, lighting his steps aflame and cauterizing the wound on his paw, numbing it and closing it for the moment. He growled at the snake who decided now was a great time to fight back, because no sooner than Dean was staring it down than it was shooting down the concrete at him. Dean startled for a moment and moved to get out of its way, but the thing was fast and gave little recovery time before it was once again striking at him, fangs covered in flames and body igniting so bright there was little doubt in Dean’s mind it would burn to touch it. But he resolved his will and struck out with his paw, smacking the thing across its head and barely missing its dripping fangs by sheer luck. The hit sent it flying away, a mass of writing scales and flame before it was once again charging at Dean, who decided it was a very good idea to dodge and hit rather than his normal fighting choice of _all-out assault_. It struck at his paws and legs like lightning, Dean had no idea how he managed to dodge all the attempts, but it seemed to fair just as well as dodging his own attacks.

He was frustrated, trying to smack at the snake and knock it off balance long enough to pin and kill it, but the thing was _too damn fast_ and nothing he tried seemed to be working. He jumped again, raising up on his back paws as the thing launched forward to strike at his paws. He finally had an opening and came slamming down on to the snake’s body, making sure to quickly pin the thrashing head as the body began to heat up considerably. Dean had moments now before the heat would be too much and he’d be forced to let go out of sheer pain. He focused his will power and moved around to try and bite at the head, but it kept squirming, lower body thrashing up against his sides and legs, each hit like a red hot whip. It was incredibly painful, but Dean endured it to try and snap his teeth around the reptile’s head. All it would take was one bite and the thing would no longer be a danger, but Dean realized it was too late. With a yowl of pain, he jumped away, pads burning against the cool of the concrete. The snake quickly recovered and once again charged at Dean who managed to once again bat its head away, buying him a few more moments to focus his magic into healing his more minor wounds. Healing was not his forte, but without it he would be at the mercy of the snake. He was unable to heal properly before the thing was back and leaping straight for him, something he noticed a half second too late to dodge properly. He was going to graze the fang at best, get a full bite at worst.

He grit his teeth, preparing for the bite that never came. A resounding _hiss_ filled his ears and Dean watched in fascination as the snake was lifted from its path of death and into the air in a matter of seconds. The snake seemed equally surprised for a moment before it began to attempt striking at this new offender. Dean looked and saw a large black bird latched on to the snake, all talons and beak as it tore into the snake. In response the snake attempted to bite on the bird, but it had no time before the beak was tearing into his middle. Once that area was shredding the bird seemed to let go, only to grab it in a different area and begin to tear again. Dean was enthralled with the process and vaguely wondered why the bird was not being burned by the snake’s flames as it reached down and tore into the snake’s skin, ripping it to shreds in a matter of seconds. Soon the snake went limp and the bird dropped it, letting its lifeless corpse hit the ground. Dean jumped slightly at the noise before returning his gaze to the bird who was circling in for a landing. Once landed, Dean was taken aback. It was clearly a falcon, though Dean had never seen a black one before, and it was big enough to look him straight in the eye. It hopped up to him and peered at him with curious blue eyes, lined with the silvery-grey of an Air-magic Feral before it once again took to flying, this time back down the hallway to where Sam had been.

Dean charged after it, deciding to burn the Rabid’s body later as he (painfully) barreled down the hallway to where he knew his little brother was. He found him, soon enough, and saw he had little to worry around when the falcon-Feral was perched on the boar’s corpse. It sported many deep bites and gashes, a testament to how good Sam was. Sam was also warily eyeing the bird on the corpse as it shifted from foot to foot on the corpse. Dean chuffed at it, waving his paw to try and shoo the creature, which was not working before he finally just growled and motioned for the bird to move as his mouth filled with heat and light. The bird keened startledly and flapped off the corpse awkwardly before Dean’s mouth erupted into flames that devoured the corpse. He snorted at the stench before Sam returned with the snake corpse, throwing it on to the burning body of the boar as another stream of flame erupted from Dean for good measure. Deciding the bodies would burn themselves properly, Dean turned away from the fire and began to trot out of the root, limping slightly at his bad paw. Everything hurt and Sam came up beside him to help him move. Dean appreciated the effort, but pushed Sam away, it hurt too much to let his brother help him. Behind him he heard the bird following, hopping on the concrete since Dean was not exactly moving fast enough to warrant flying. Dean _almost_ growled at the thought but held his tongue.

Soon however, the raptor got bored of hopping (or maybe it was just a very assuming bird) and had hopped up on Sam’s back to hitch a ride. Sam had barked and growled at first, but he was quietly sulking now that he realized thrashing only made the falcon hover for a bit before landing again. Dean sent him an amused look, which Sam did not return. Finally stepping out in to the factory’s front lawn made Dean groan in satisfaction as he slowly shifted back to human form on the grass and laid there panting. His foot was bleeding again from the shift and he could feel his pulse thundering under the wound. Beside him Sam shifted and sat on the grass, also panting and sporting a good few gashes and bruises of his own. At least no one got bit by that damn snake. Licking his lips and sitting up, Dean turned his attention to the bird, who was now on the grass between the two brothers but far enough in front of them that it could see them both with a simple turn of the head.

“So who are you?” Dean asked, voice raspy and harsh.

The falcon seemed to tilt its head in confusion as if it did not know why Dean was asking such a thing before realization seemed to flood its eyes. It must have realized it was not a human as it began to shift, feathers receding back into pale skin in a way that Dean could only think of as painful or incredibly itchy. Soon enough however there was a man replacing the bird and Dean raised his eyebrow at Sam, who was equally interesting. It was no one they had ever met before and the boys did not like strangers well. The man before them moved to a sitting position as well, looking both eager and uninterested at the same time. It was an odd combination that Dean did not think anyone else on the planet could pull off. His hair was dark, somewhere between black and brown, but his eyes remained blue and silver, showing his status as a fully in-control Feral. He was shorter than Dean or his brother but not overly skinny, but he did not look like he could back up the power and strength his presence seemed to give off. He was a walking ( _sitting_ ) contradiction and Dean found he rather liked the contrast.

“I am sorry I did not respond earlier.” The man spoke and his voice sounded like he had downed a bucket of gravel. Dean shrugged and motioned him to continue, not wishing to talk before the man answered his question. The man stretched his arms a little in a motion not unlike a bird stretching its wings before he finally answered. “My name is Castiel.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Castiel is a black Gyr Falcon Feral, his element is Air.


	4. A (Mostly) Temporary Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Either he had snatched the clothes from a nearby clothesline or he had stowed them nearby, though Dean was more inclined to believe the clothesline thing. None of the guy’s clothes really matched. The jeans were slightly too big for him and the white shirt was stained and slightly too small. The hooded jacket he had on seemed to be the only thing that really fit him with any sense of dignity; overall the guy looked homeless.

Dean never did get that fish. It seemed to just be too much trouble with all the pain he was in to climb the stairs up to the top of the vats holding the various species of eating fish, then manage to stay still long enough for him to swipe up a fish from the water and proceed to leave with it. His foot ached and he agreed with it, that was too much work for one meal. That didn’t stop him from looking back at the facility with slight regret. It  was free food, after all. But  free did not always mean  easy and he let the regret wash away from him with each step he took.

Still, he refused to let Sam carry him like his gigantic baby brother had offered several times now. He had to keep  some  of his dignity, thank you very much. Besides, he’d heal soon anyway. A good night’s rest and one of the blood packs they kept in the cooler and Dean would be right as rain (well mostly, at least he’d be able to walk without a serious limp). His most present concern, however, was the presence of a mysterious falcon Feral who was trailing behind them. The guy kept darting his eyes around nervously, the movement so birdlike Dean was surprised. Most Ferals only had a few resemblances to their animals, this Castiel guy acted like a bird stuck in a human body. His movements were jerky, like he wasn’t used to walking everywhere, and his eyes were dilated and alert. It was as if he expected an attack from every shadow, the guy even flinched minutely at every noise. Seriously, the guy was stressed and Dean wasn’t entirely sure he and Sam would have to put down  another Rabid if this guy didn’t stop with all his nervous ticking. 

He seemed to notice Dean’s attention on him (finally) and had the decency to look abashed. “I am sorry. I am not used to being human for long periods.” He said, deep voice still startling Dean. Most bird Shifters had light and lilting voices (then again Dean had really only met songbird shifters). 

Dean nodded and shrugged. “I’m more wondering  why you still following us. I mean, thanks for killing that snake for us and all, but, dude, you can go now.” He said, harsher than he intended. Sam elbowed him and sent him the  ‘Don’t be rude, jerk’ face. Dean rolled his eyes and sighed. “Do you want a cut of the pay, is that it?” 

The man looked startled, and Dean was sure that if he had had feathers, they would have puffed up a little. The idea amused Dean’s animal. “You get  paid to kill Shifters?” He asked, voice rising in alarm. 

Dean raised his eyebrow at him as they finally reached where they had parked the Impala. Dean leaned against his car and took the now empty clothes bag Sam had carried with him. Somewhere along the way they both decided to get dressed and Castiel had somehow suddenly been dressed as well. Either he had snatched the clothes from a nearby clothesline or he had stowed them nearby, though Dean was more inclined to believe the clothesline thing. None of the guy’s clothes really  matched . The jeans were slightly too big for him and the white shirt was stained and slightly too small. The hooded jacket he had on seemed to be the only thing that really fit him with any sense of dignity; overall the guy looked homeless. Didn’t help that he seemed to forget shoes were an actual thing people wear. But Dean could see the scales of a bird’s talon on the bottom of the guy’s feet if he looked hard enough so Dean figured he didn’t really need shoes. 

He looked back up at the guy’s face and the other Feral was still wearing the same surprised expression. “We get paid to kill Rabids.” He corrected. Castiel looked confused then, tilting his head (another birdlike gesture) and narrowing his eyes. 

“What are Rabids?” He asked. 

Both Sam and Dean looked at him with a look halfway between shock and  ‘you’re kidding right’ . When Castiel’s expression failed to change from the searching expression, Dean heard Sam snort disbelievingly. 

“Are you serious?” Sam asked and Castiel nodded. 

“Very.” He responded and Sam shook his head as Dean tried to wrap his head around someone not knowing about a Rabid. They blinked in sync before looking at each other and Sam shrugged. Dean sighed. 

“Get in. We’ll get you to the nearest motel. And we’ll talk about this whole  you don’t know what a Rabid is thing.” Dean said with an air of finality. The dark haired man seemed to question the wisdom of following the order before he crawled into the back seat silently and carefully. 

Sam gave Dean a look before heading to the passenger’s seat and sliding in himself. Dean sighed and started up the Impala, revelling in the engine’s roar. The first few cords of the Van Halen cassette he had left in the player poured through the speakers as he shifted into drive and Baby began to drive down the road. It was trance-like, driving with Baby and Sam down the road, but the presence of the stranger in the back had him on edge. His hands flexed every now and again, claws stretching and receding from his hands as he tried to calm his animal down. He didn’t like change. 

Beside him Sam leaned his head back against the headrest and his eyes closed. Dean envied him; dogs were so much more accepting of change. Sam seemed perfectly at ease with having a stranger in the back seat of Baby, all the while Dean was trying his hardest not to give in to the need to pounce. He sighed. Maybe that was the reason he worked best with Sam around. Behind them the stranger shifted, obviously trying to get comfortable and Dean felt his tail prickle up. He didn’t like this at all and his animal was displeased he had even suggesting letting the guy in the car in the first place. 

Sam chuckled. He was looking at Dean’s tail puffing up and sent his older brother a  ‘really dude’ look before shaking his head, amused. Dean shrugged and willed his animal to knock it off when he heard the guy’s stomach growl. 

“Hey, you hungry?” Sam asked the man and he once again wore a startled expression like he did not expect them to talk to him. 

“I suppose I am.” He answered and his stomach gave another valiant roar, making Sam and Dean chuckle. 

With an actual goal in mind, Dean was able to focus his animal’s attention on something other than the stranger in the back. Now it was focused on hunting, on finding food in the concrete jungle. It wasn’t quite the same as if he was on foot, feeling the earth beneath his paws, stalking rabbits and small snakes like he did in his childhood, but it was a form of hunting nevertheless so the animal was happy. They pulled into the city that hired them moments after the hunt had started and Dean looked around for a diner or fast food place to grab a bite for everyone in the vehicle. He spotted a small drive-in and grinned as he pulled the Impala into the mostly empty parking lot. 

A couple of employee vehicles were parked up against a fence, a rusted bike was chained to a nearby bike rack and Dean spotted a couple burnouts hiding in the shadow the main building provided. He pulled into one of the ordering stalls and looked at the menu, chuckling at this place’s attempts to look like a Sonic in order to survive in the corporate world. Next to him Sam crawled over, crowding Dean against the window as the behemoth looked at the menu with him. He was  almost irritate with the motion but Sam pulled away before Dean would do anything about it. 

The same fatty foods that all places like this had: corndogs, hotdogs that were questionable, fries that were probably the size of half a potato each, copious amounts of milk shakes with various toppings and flavorings and basically everything had the option of being covered in spicy meat chili. Even the ice cream it looked like. Huh. Dean was curious. 

“Know what you want, Sammy?” He asked and his brother nodded, doing something on his phone. “What about you...uh...Castiel?” He sent to the back of his vehicle were the guy was crammed against the window. 

“I am not sure. I’ve never had anything like what is on  this menu.” 

Dean blinked and turned in his seat to look at Castiel. “Are you serious?” He asked and the man nodded, looking down demurely. Dean sighed and nodded to himself. “Alright, I’ll order for you, okay?” He offered and the man nodded. 

“Thank you.” He said and Dean pushed the button on the menu. 

“May I take your order?” Came the very bored voice of a teenager and Dean felt a smirk pull at the side of his mouth. 

“Yeah, I’ll get two chili dogs, an order of-” He looked towards Sam who reached over again to stick his floppy-hair in Dean’s face.

“One cheeseburger with extra lettuce with chili fries.” Sam said before retreating back to his seat and giving Dean a smug look. The elder rolled his eyes before leaning out the window again. 

“And add another cheeseburger to that order, oh wait…” Dean hesitated a moment thinking about the guy in the back. He was a bird. A predator bird. What in the world could he eat without getting sick? Sam huffed and leaned over again. 

“Make that two double chicken sandwiches, no lettuce, tomato or onion.” Sam said and Dean pushed him back into his seat. 

“Yeah. All that. And three Cokes, a Sunday Shake and a caramel milkshake please.” He said finally.

The teenager gave them their total and Dean leaned back against his chair, waiting for the food to arrive. 

“So, you really don’t know about Rabids?” Sam suddenly asked. Dean turned his head to listen better to their conversation but remained silent. 

“I really do not know. As far as I knew, there were only people who could do the things your brother can do and those who cannot.” The man explained and Dean’s eyebrow raised. 

“You mean who can just turn into animals? Cause there’s more than the two, dude.” Dean said and Sam nodded.

“There’s Shifters, like me, Ferals, like Dean and you and then there’s Domestics like those who probably work at this fast food place.” Sam said and Dean heard Castiel lean forward. 

“Domestics?” He asked and Sam nodded. 

“People who never synchronize with their animals so they lose their animal forever. Sometimes its natural, sometimes people are forcibly suppressed. Usually by super religious or really old fashioned groups who believe changing into an animal is evil or something.” Sam explained and the man nodded slowly. 

“And there’s lots of them?” He asked and Dean shrugged. 

“Probably. I mean, Sammy and I run into more Domestics than anything else and we’ve been all over the country.” 

Castiel ‘hmm’-ed for a moment before scooting forward towards them again. “You’ve never left the country?” 

Sam chuckled. “Well, one, Dean is terrified of flying--don’t make that face it’s true, Dean--and we are registered Hunters.” 

The bird Feral tilted his head again. “So what does being registered have to do with your travel habits?”

Sam blinked. “Well….it means that we’re only supposed to hunt within the territory of the leader we were born under, in Dean and I’s case, we were born in Michael’s territory and he’s over the United States since Lucifer gave up his half of the country.” 

Castiel seemed to sit back in thought then, tapping his fingers against each other. “Oh, I see.” He said quietly. It seemed he wasn’t going to talk again so Sam returned to whatever it was he was doing on the phone and Dean closed his eyes, listening for when someone was bringing them their food. 

The wait wasn’t long, and soon enough the found of rollerskates had Dean opening his eyes as a peppy teenage girl skated up carrying their food. Dean grinning at the smell of the food and pulled one of their credit cards out of his wallet and handed it to her in exchange for the food. She skated off to scan the card and Dean passed out the food. 

“Chicken, huh?” He teased lightly as he handed Castiel his sandwiches. 

“I can generally consume any bird, but my diet is mostly limited to poultry.” Castiel said as he accepted the sandwiches. “I’ve also found out I can stomach rodents.” 

Dean coughed and nearly spit his Coke out. “Rodents? Dude, why would eat a rat?” 

Castiel shrugged. “I was hungry and it was there. I was too weak to catch any of the pigeons, so a rat was the easiest option.” 

“But they have, like, diseases and stuff!” Dean protested. 

“It was a store rat.” Castiel responded as he took another bite. “I stole it from a pet store.”

Dean….had nothing to say about that and took a bite of his chilidog instead. Beside him Sam was shaking with laughter and Dean sent him a withering glare. This guy was just weird. He shook his head and took another drink of his Coke as Sam finished off his burger and moved on to his caramel shake. Dean was finished shortly after him and started on his own shake, a sweet monstrosity that made Dean happy. From behind an arm slowly reached forward and handed back the sandwich boxes and Dean added them to the tray attached to the window. 

Soon enough they were finished eating and the girl returned Dean’s card as she took the trash back. Dean once again put the car back on the road, in the direction of of the motel where they were staying so they could pack. Once in the parking lot, Sam instantly took off for the mayor’s office to collect their payment and Dean unlocked their door. 

“I’m staying here already.” Castiel said and Dean looked over his shoulder at him. 

“Huh?”

“I paid for a room this morning. It’s a few floors up.” He said, pointing to the top level of rooms. 

“Wow. We got here this morning too.” Dean stated, stepping into his room and waiting for Castiel. His animal was irritated that he was letting a stranger into the  territory , but Dean pushed it back. 

“I know.” Castiel stated as he stepped in, looking around the room. “I checked in after you did.” 

Dean sat on his bed. “So you’ve been stalking us?”

Castiel shook his head and remained standing, leaning against a nearby wall. “No. I was flying overhead and saw your fight with the viper, so I decided to assist. The fact that you turned out to be the same two from my motel is coincidence.” 

Dean sighed as he heard the telltale clicks of Sam returning as a dog. Sure enough, he burst through the open door, all hair and enthusiasm and Dean rolled his eyes, taking the envelope from his brother’s mouth as the massive dog jumped up on the bed behind him.

Castiel looked visibly startled and Dean laughed. “Hard to compare sizes when we are animals, but yes, Sam really is a furry battle mount to a human. I’d probably be able to crush you if I shifted right now, I’m bigger than him.” Dean chuckled, petting his brother on the head as he counted the cash. 

“I apologize. I haven’t been around any Shifters other than birds in a long time, and most of them were smaller seed-eating breeds. I’m even smaller then my older brothers though.” He stated and Dean grinned at him. 

“Yeah I get that. So, you want a cut of the pay? You did kill the snake after all.” Dean said, taking a chunk of the cash he assumed would be one third out of the pile and offering it. 

Castiel strode forward nervously, clearly unsure if he should take the money, but eventually he took it from Dean’s hand. “Are you sure?” 

“Totally.” Dean snorted. “Sam and I have been working jobs back to back for weeks, we have more then enough cash right now.” He replied, standing and shooing Sam over to his own bed. Sam went with a huff and laid down.

“Does he often stay in animal form?” Castiel asked.

Dean nodded. “Yeah, unless we are in the car, he prefers to be a weird giant furball.” He put the cash into his wallet and set to packing up the room while Sam carried the bags to the Impala trunk. 

“You’re leaving?” 

Dean looked up from stealing the little shampoos and soaps. “Well, yeah. We never intended to stay here even this long.” He said as he tossed the bag at Sam who caught it and ran off. 

Castiel’s face scrunched up in thought as Dean grabbed the last of their bags (the laptop and charger) and the motel room key. 

“Can I come with?” Dean stopped in his tracks and looked back at him. 

“Excuse me?”

“Can I come with you? I have no reason to stay here.” Castiel asked again. 

Dean blinked for a moment in thought when he felt Sam nudging at his elbow. He looked at his brother and sighed, nodding. 

“Yeah, alright. You can come with us. For now, anyway. We’ll take you as far as South Dakota, since that’s where we are headed anyway.” Dean offered. The guy seemed like he needed a helping hand, but Dean couldn’t shake the feeling that Castiel was hiding something, or he was running from something. Well, Dean could understand both of those and South Dakota, if nothing else, was a great place to disappear. 

Castiel smiled a little and left the room to gather whatever it is he brought and Dean sighed again before heading to the Impala to make room in the trunk for whatever it was Castiel was bringing. They didn’t wait long and Dean was unsure if he should be glad or sad that Castiel was only carrying a medium sized duffle bag. On the bright side, it fit in the trunk easily, but the sight of it depressed Dean a little. He felt like he should ask, but Castiel wasn’t offering so Dean would leave it be. He put Castiel’s things in and shut the trunk, moving to the driver’s seat. 

On the road again, Dean thought, but this time they had one extra.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the gap. I recently lost a lot of things from my flash drive containing my outlines to our family car. I'll be updating more often now, though as I have order back in life. 
> 
> Also thanks to everyone who left Kudos or comments! I means a ton to me. Also LOOK! I added pretty art to the first chapter and the prequel to this story! Yay!
> 
> <3


End file.
